Does the dog still bark when after midnight the heat forces you to fling your window open? I miss your laid back voice in the humid night.
How does the third layer of blue dry on the oil you painted for me? I don’t have unhappy memories, just naïve daydreams that will never be.
We’re both jaded from too many sunsets of love sinking down behind picturesque silhouettes. Still I feel I should have yelled at you just once
to procrastinate my lingering heart attack. I’m site you’d have been too distracted anyway .
So, come out my heart, let’s stroll the lonely shore and breathe some sexless air, watch another bloody sunset slip down the horizon because this time it isn’t meant for us.